Dish
by chartwilightmom
Summary: FAGE 007 Gift for Deonne. Prompt used: "I think they should make a male version of Hooters, where guys walk around shirtless, wrangler jeans and cowboy hats. It shall be called Pythons." Bella x Edward, AH, OOC, M for fun.


FAGE 007

Title: Dish

Written for: Deonne

Written By: chartwilightmom

Rating: M

Summary/Prompt used: "I think they should make a male version of Hooters, where guys walk around shirtless, wrangler jeans and cowboy hats. It shall be called Pythons."

Disclaimer: Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. © 2014 chartwilightmom. All rights reserved worldwide.

AN: Huge thanks to Karly for dealing with my abuse of commas and her beta skills to make this shiny and pretty. As always, thanks to BeeGurl for her love of Robert pics, and her creativity in the banner she made for this fic. And I gladly spend time on my knees giving thanks to Vampiremama for all her hard work at putting this gift exchange together, Mistress you're beyond worthy.

If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group: Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps, or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.

www . fanfiction community /FAGE-007/93625/

Staring at the building in front of me I feel every nerve in my body, alive with energy, flowing through my veins, excitement and nervousness rolled into one. This was it, the start of our new business. This was our chance to create our own destiny, our own lively hood. No more waiting tables, or standing behind a bar and taking drink orders from assholes.

I remember the first time I had my ass smacked while waiting tables. The urge to turn around and punch the guy in the face was so overwhelming that I almost cracked a tooth gritting so hard as I tried to smile back at the fucker. I knew then and there that the tables would be turned one day.

And this was that day.

My best friends and new business partners come up to stand beside me, and I can hear the hitch in their breath and the same energy flowing off of them that I possess.

"I don't think the sign is big enough."

Rose and I turn to look at Alice, her head tilted to the side.

"Fuck, Alice, weren't you the one that approved it from the sign company?" I can tell from the tone of Rose's voice that she is on the edge of slamming Alice to the ground in an attempt to knock out whatever it is in her silly head that makes her mouth spew stupid things like this.

Being the friend that I am, I touch Rose's arm to calm her and to prevent bloodshed before we even open the doors.

I put on my best smile, step forward and put my key in the door, "Shall we ladies?"

The door unlocks, the sound of the metal moving through the tumbler resonating through my ears, settling deep within me that this is really happening. At no point in this process did I feel I was making a mistake or taking a leap without looking. Not when we signed the papers in the lawyers office solidifying our new partnership, not when we signed the lease for the space we now enter, though I will admit a small part of me was afraid that at any moment a corner would whip out and cut me as a sign to say "no, you can't do this."

No, this was the right thing, the right time, the right place, and above all, the right people.

My key easily pulls out, and I pull the door back, opening and turning to Rose and Alice, "Welcome to _Dish,_ ladies."

_One Year Later_

There is some crazy statistic out there that talks about how many restaurants fail in their first year. Well, not us. Nope, we are still growing with a line out the door every night. Alice is happy in the kitchen, and Rose beaming with pride as she works community in getting the word out about the hottest eatery and venue in the city.

Between the three of us, we have managed to come up with the right recipe for our restaurant: great food, reasonable prices, and servers that make your mouth water as much as the food.

I can remember the night we all came home from working late shifts at our various jobs when this idea started. We were sitting in the living space of the dive of a loft that we shared only to save money, shirts untucked, shoes off and beverages in our hands. We were talking about the creeps we all encountered that night, when Rose made the comment that set all of this in motion.

_"I think they should make a male version of Hooters, where guys walk around shirtless, in wrangler jeans and cowboy hats. It shall be called Pythons."_

It was that statement that had me thinking through the night, a plan starting for formulate into what would be the turning of the tables for us.

Rose and I are childhood friends, growing up in a small town not too far from here. We spent our weekends here in the city, learning and moving within the accessible big world. It was after college, both of us armed with business degrees, that we learned that the big world around us didn't have room for two more businesswomen. So we took the skills we learned during college, waiting tables and working in bars, to earn our wage and continue living while waiting for that opportunity to find our place in the world.

I moved from working at a chain restaurant, getting my ass slapped and hit on a regular basis, to an upscale club where I was still hit on, abated by a higher scale clientele, but at least I had the bar in front of me to keep the hands away from my ass.

Rose met Alice a year out of college while working at a 'the more skin you show, the better the tips' place where Alice was a sous-chef at the time. She was a snarky spitfire, still is, and at the time working any job to learn and earn her stripes, but always itching to create her own dishes.

The three of us have been living together for the past five years, scrimping and saving while working jobs we yearned to get away from. Over the last two years we became business partners, cementing our common goal at opening our own restaurant.

Taking the initial idea from Rose, I came up with a plan that could actually work. With Alice as the chef, her menu creations not only delicious, but reasonable when it came to cost; Rose as the marketing genius, focusing on our target market, the average hot-blooded woman; and myself running the office, managing the books, the staff and the building, we had the triple threat to making our business a success.

With a nicely dressed all male staff, fitted clothes and more than friendly attitudes, always a genuine smiles and model looks, we came up with the name of our restaurant, Dish.

It is Monday mid-day, my second cup of coffee still steaming in front of me on the table as I wait nervously for our newest hires to present themselves for training. Fortunately we have created an environment where we have a low turnover rate, so I don't have to do this very often.

"Here are the new hires," Jessica, my assistant says, placing an iPad in front of me. "These three," she pauses, pointing to the files she has pulled up. "All come from La Paz." I look up and see the smirk she is wearing.

Beyond helping me with paperwork and her other duties, Jessica goes through all the resumes and applications we receive, sometimes leads from Rose who learns about certain waiters about town. She conducts a set of interviews before making the decision on the hires. So far, she has never steered the restaurant wrong in her choices of waiters.

Apparently, these three were her latest steals.

Jessica sits and gives me the short and sweet on her latest acquisitions, telling me her little tale of visiting La Paz, an overpriced, stuffy establishment on the other side of the city. I have been there myself once or twice, not remembering any wait staff worth dropping my card. But apparently she found something there.

"Great work Jess."

The sound of three sets of footsteps enters the main dining room give us pause to look up from the iPad, the three are quiet in their approach but purposely making their way to my table. I take a quick sip of my coffee and steel myself.

"Thank you, Jessica. I will let you know if I need anything else." Jessica leaves, and after looking at the three beautiful men in front of me, I remind myself to set Jessica up for a spa day to reward her.

All three men are young, but close to my age, tall and well groomed; all dressed in our standard fitted white button down, leaving little room to show nothing but their fit physics, with black tailored pants. Their shirts are open at the collar for the moment. There are a few more steps in training before they are deemed ready to receive our signature custom ties to don their necks.

The first man on the left is Jasper, blond hair and what appears to be shoulder length, but I am unable to discern since he has it pulled back in a tight base-of-the-neck ponytail. His features are nice, chiseled with a stoic look about him that makes me think he has spent some time in the military.

The second man is Emmett, large and muscular, with trimmed, short dark hair. His broad shoulders are what catch my eye first, making me wonder what sports he plays but when he smiles, flashing his killer dimples, my eyes immediately find what I know will be a smile to bring him more tips than he has ever seen before.

The last man is Edward, whose lean body looks like he runs to keep in shape; his reddish brown hair is neatly combed back for the longer than trim length that he has. His sea green eyes watch me as give him a once over, and I immediately can tell that he is nervous even if his overall appearance says otherwise.

Staying seated, I begin my prepared speech, "I know that all of you are some of the best servers in this city; we would not have hired you if you weren't more than competent. I am going to say this only once; you can put your dicks away right now. We are not going to have any pissing contests around here. And check your egos at the door too. We are here to serve, to show the beauty that we have assembled, in the atmosphere, in the staff and in the food. You are also not a gigolo; we don't pay you to have sex with the customers, we don't expect you to have sex with customers. Flirt yes, be sweet and kind yes."

I knew damn well what happens out on the floor of the restaurant; slipping of numbers, gentle grazes of firm butts. Hell, I would think any hot-blooded woman that came to dine here would have a hard time not wanting to do something inappropriate to one of the waiters.

"But anything beyond that isn't what we hired you for nor are you expected to do. This is not a strip club. You are not being paid to remove any clothes. Quite the opposite, you are being paid to be the best food server this town has ever seen, and look fuck hot doing so. If you have a problem with any of this, speak now."

Watching the three men, I notice all are processing what I have just said, giving them a chance to back out now that they now what we are all about. We have worked hard at developing the right staff, wanting nothing but the best for our patrons as well as a loyal staff.

Emmett smiles, his dimples in full force as he speaks, "Ms. Swan, I speak for all of us when I say we're in."

"Good," I say standing up. "Then it's time to start your training. First, inspection." I see the three look between each other, wondering what that might entail. Pity, many men have never had the pleasure of being judged like this before.

Inspection has always been something that I have been subjected to, as well as Rose in our previous jobs. Somehow we always have worked in establishments that we are looked over from head to toe before starting our shifts, making sure that everything is in place, presentable and appealing to the patron's eye, specifically male. Like every manager thinks we were incapable of dressing ourselves.

When we started the vision for our restaurant, one thing we were certain about is a pleasant, if not particular, look of our all male staff. Sure, we might have started out wanting to dress them in little as possible, showing as much skin as we have in our previous jobs, subjecting them to ass slaps, but after thinking about what we would want to see, a nicely dressed man seemed to appeal to us more. We all have had our turn in inspecting the staff before shifts since we opened the doors, but at this moment, I might take some particular enjoyment in this part of my job.

Approaching the three, I notice that they all stand tall, squaring their shoulders and putting on brave faces.

"Jasper, you're first. Step forward please." With wary eyes, he does as I ask, waiting like a solider for his next command. "Turn in a full circle, slowly to the right, hands at your sides." As expected, he follows and turns in a slow circle, my eyes examining each part of his uniform, noticing his firm form, scaling up and down to make sure everything is in place and he is well fitted.

I repeat the process with Emmett, his smile firmly in place, and a sense of pride and enjoyment gleaming from his eyes as I perform my task.

Edward is last, turning slower than the others, my eyes scanning his body, my mind taking particular notice of the cinch at his waist making my mouth water at the sight. There is defining soft V shape of his upper body, broad shoulders that taper down to his waist. The tone of his legs are visible all the way around from front to back as if he was poured into his pants, reaching a peak at the top with his pump ass that looks bitable. As he makes a full circle, I hold back a whimper as I observe a perfect specimen of man.

"Perfect," I whisper. I can envision Edward naked, bare for my eyes only, the firm muscles, taught against his soft skin. My fingers tracing lines along the indentations of his body each dip and curve a map for me to explore. My lips tasting as my tongue strokes each inch available, a path carved out just for me by the trails of his body, leading to his center, an awaiting hard cock.

"Fuck," the word falls from my lips, the same exact moment that I realize I am utterly and truly fucked when it comes to Edward.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I quickly turn and focus on something else in the room other than Edward and my private thoughts of ravaging his body. I instantly realize my mistake, the one rule we made for ourselves: no dating employees.

"Fuck," I whisper my favorite word. I gather myself and start to walk to through the dining area, acting as a tour guide, pointing out various sections and basic information. The switch to my business mode seems to draw my thoughts away from the perverted path I started to take a few moments ago, and I pray that my slipup went unnoticed by the three men, especially Edward.

As I continue the tour, they ask a few questions here and there, nothing unexpected. My concentration is on anything in the room other than looking at Edward, giving my only eye contact to Jasper and Emmett. The tension in the room is thick and must be self-induced. Surely it's the feeling that Edward knows what I am thinking and is watching my every move is only my imagination running away from me..

When we reach our way back around to the host's station, I find Jake standing there, preparing for his part of the training. "Jasper, Emmett, Edward, this is Jake Black, he is our host and will walk you through the rest of your training and will let you know your schedule."

"So you won't be training us anymore?" Edward's smooth, deep voice breaks through the demeanor I failed at putting together over the last thirty minutes.

Sighing, I finally give him eye contact, regretting it immediately. He is gazing at me, the look in his eyes reflecting what my I thought my imagination was dreaming up. "I will see you later in my office for paperwork, other than that, Jake will run you through the rest of the training."

Practically running from the scene of the crime, feeling as though I was the pervert and the victim all in one shot, I find myself back in the safety of my office, behind the closed door.

It isn't as if I am a virgin, scared of a man. I have had boyfriends in the past, nothing long-term, but definitely nothing to write home about. And definitely never like the instant reaction that I am having to Edward. I know that there is nothing wrong with having a relationship; one day I hope to find love, marry and have 2.5 kids with a dog and a house—just not right now. I start thinking about what the problem is here. Could I be in a relationship, regardless if it is physical or emotional or long term or a fling, with someone who works for me? Is this just a case of crazy lust? There are so many issues, not to mention that I am an owner and an authoritative figure for this business and Edward is under my employment.

Eventually, I find it simple, jumping out through my chaos in my head: I can't be involved with someone I work with in this restaurant. It is a deal breaker.

Buried in paperwork, doing everything I can to ignore the lustful thoughts in my head, the soft knock on my office door barely breaks through the hum of my computer.

"Come in," I say, not even looking away from the figures on the screen.

"Ms. Swan?" Before I even look up, I know whom it is.

I close my eyes, a soft sigh escaping before I answer, "Hi Mr. Masen."

"Please, call me Edward."

"Edward," I say, my thoughts immediately going to how breathy I could make his name. I grab a stack of new hire docs and hand to him, trying desperately not to look at any part of him. "Here is your paperwork, you can take home and fill out and return before your first shift."

"Um."

"If you have any questions, you can ask Jessica or myself."

"I do, have a question that is."

I focus back on the screen in front of my, my imagination morphing the graphs and numbers into a sex scene, "Yes?"

"What is the policy on dating other employees?" he blurts out, my eyes zero in on his.

"Other employees?" My hopes immediately arise, even though I know that nothing can come between us. It's just not possible.

"Yes, you know, other people that work here." He gulps, looking as hopeful as he sounds.

"Um," I stutter, trying to figure out the best way to answer his questions, hopeful in my own right that I could find a loophole in my logic and policy. "No?" The answer falls from my lips in the form of a question.

"Oh." He sounds dejected as he turns to leave my office.

The door closes and I feel as if I turned away a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"Bella, what the hell has gotten in to you today?" Rose asks, pouring what is left of the bottle of wine I started when I arrived home. "You never drink like this alone."

As soon as the day ended for me, I practically ran from the restaurant like it was on fire. I needed space to clear my head and convince myself that nothing would ever happen between me and Edward.

"You're right," I start. "Something is wrong, very wrong. I'm fucked!" The wine has done its job, relaxing me. Unfortunately with the relaxing comes no filter.

Rose sits next to me, placing a newly opened bottle of wine and her glass on the coffee table. "What happened?"

At bottle end of three, Alice has joined us with her own glass and I have spilled my lustful thoughts about Edward. Burying my head in embarrassment into the pillows on the couch, I feel Rose's warm hand on my back, rubbing circles.

With one year under our belt, we have all been busy working, leaving little time for men or other activities outside of the restaurant. Not that we are complaining, we are all happy with the success that we are building. I don't want this rule to be broken, and I sure as hell don't want to be the one to break it.

"Do you want me to fire him?" Alice offers. I know that Alice would do that for me, for the restaurant, knowing I don't want to do anything to jeopardize what we have started.

"No," I mumble from my position. "He just started. I can't do that to him."

Rose snickers, "Well, you can't keep your head in the sand, or the couch."

"Fuck!" I slam my hand to the pillow beside me.

The next morning, over the strongest cup of coffee that I can make, I soberly talk to Rose and Alice, stating that I won't give into my feelings and I will do my best to avoid Edward.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Over the next three days, Edward is there at every turn I make. He is in training I remind myself, that he is there to learn each and every aspect of our operation. I try to shake my head at each glance of his body, each quick look he gives me, the hope that I thought I squashed his first day still lingering in his eyes.

As the week turns towards the weekend, the three new hires are about to start the weekend shifts, full hours and the full force of our clientele. Jessica is out running a last minute errand for Alice, leaving me to run the prep on the shift and inspections. All is going well, nothing out of the ordinary, except when I get back to my office.

I haven't even sat down at my desk when Edward comes in late, rushing into my office, out of breath and delicious as he pants standing in my doorway. Wanting to make this as fast as I can I motion him forward, willing my thoughts in the other direction instead of into a shameless slant with the heavily breathing man standing before me.

Knowing what he needs to do for inspection, Edward starts to turn and I notice instantly the side of his shirt pulled out too much, leaving this pocket of fabric gaping off the side of his lean body. The tight lines that I love seeing are missing like a piece of a puzzle. "Stop, please." I approach him and forgetting to ask permission to touch him. I pull at the puff of his shirt and start tucking, only to knock myself off balance and fall into his chest.

Normally, I would be apologetic, pushing myself away from such a close proximity after a klutzy incident, but I inhale catching Edward's heat-induced manly scent only to be drawn in. Unconsciously, I lean in and take a deeper breath, his scent making me practically melt on the spot.

His hands, which I didn't realize where resting on my shoulders, start to move. They graze down my arms, his fingers stroking, adding sensations to my over-active mind making my body almost burst into flames of desire.

"I quit."

As I contemplate the next step in this scenario, his whispered words shock me and feel like a slap in the face.

"What?"

"I can't do this, I just can't."

"Can't do what? This," I indicate pointing between him and me. "Or work here?"

"I can't work here, because of you."

I'm shocked at his words, almost to the point of being angry, wondering what the hell I did. "Me?"

"Yes, you," he says, gritting his teeth.

Slightly scared at his turn in demeanor, feeling as though I might have misread his cues, I move back to put space between us, only to be pulled closer to him, his arms resisting my attempts.

"No," Edward growls.

"No?"

"No, I can't let you go," he says with a possessive tone.

"Edward, I don't know what is going on here, but I think we need to sit down and talk."

"Fine," with that one word, he pulls me with him to the couch in my office, sitting down with my body firmly in his grip, sitting in his lap.

I huff, pushing my hair that has falling in front of my face out. "Since it seems that you aren't going to let me go, so please proceed and tell me what this is all about. What do you mean you quit?"

"I haven't been completely honest with you." I stare at him, trying to think of anything that was on his application that I didn't notice, what might have been obvious all the while I have been fantasizing about Edward since day one.

"I own La Paz."

I blink as I stare at him, trying to process what he just said.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He remains silent.

"Well, are you going to explain?" I demand.

"You told me to be quiet," he says smiling.

I slap his hard shoulder, immediately winching at the new ache in my hand. He retrieves my hand and places a gentle kiss on the inside of my palm, igniting the simmering fire just below the surface since meeting Edward a few days ago. All I can think is it is a good thing that he has a firm hold on me; otherwise I would be a puddle in the floor right about now.

"Well, my family has owned La Paz for a few generations: this is our fifth store in three states. I was given the chance to run it on my own two years ago. Since I was able to earn a paycheck, I have worked in our restaurants, every position, and every station. I worked my way from the ground up."

"So did you come here to spy on us? Or just to make a mockery of what we are doing?" I can hear the anger in my voice, the thought that I misread him, the idea that he is here to sabotage our business just annoys me.

"No," he immediately replies. "I have been in this business a long time and when Jessica came in the other week, I don't know what I thought I was doing, agreeing to apply along with Jasper and Emmett. I just thought it might be fun."

"But why would she even offer you, you're the owner? She only ever talks to servers."

"We were short so I jumped in to help."

He certainly fits the part, still young enough to pull off being a waiter. And that he has the experience unlike so many owners and managers helps. My angry thoughts quickly switch to humiliation. "Fuck, Jessica's going to flip when she finds out that she mistook you for a waiter."

He laughs, shaking us both. "I took it as a compliment. You shouldn't be upset with her."

"I'm not, just embarrassed. We haven't had a problem like this before. And Jessica would never speak to an owner let alone a manager of another restaurant. We don't hunt down hot looking guys to work for us."

"So she has done this before, steal employees?"

"I wouldn't say steal. We present our side and those that are interested apply. We just happen to be lucky at finding the best guys in town."

His grin tells me that he doesn't believe me, but right now I could care less. I change the subject to focus the spotlight back on him. "So you own La Paz."

"Yes."

"And you quit so you can go back there."

"Yes."

"Because you can't work for me?" I ask the question, wondering what the answer will be. The position we are in could be misconstrued and with the gamut that my imagination has been running lately, I don't want to risk any more misunderstandings with Edward.

"No, you said it the other day, I can't date an employee. I assume that means you can't either," he says, the words causing me to sigh and melt into his firm hold. "And I want to take you on a date, very much."

"Thank fuck," I say, my lips finding his, my fingers winding through his ever-so soft hair as I twist my body, my skirt hiking up as I straddle his legs. Any thoughts I had in my fantasies of how soft his hair would be can't compare to the real thing. The short hairs at the nape of his neck are at that perfect point between prickly and too long, sending tremors through the pads of my fingers.

Edward's firm body comes closer, removing what little space is between us, his arms encasing me into a place I never want to leave. He is solid muscle; his tight shirt lends itself to the moving tendons under his skin, my hands are trailing their way as each one moves, and an appetizing masterpiece of the male form that I want to devour with every inch of me. Our kisses become even more heated, his mouth as insistent as mine. A mixture of desire and heat flow between us as my hands move to his upper back, moaning at the feel of power of his body just as his hands move to cup my ass, squeezing and kneading. Before long, we reach a calm, pecks and nibbles, enjoying his kisses like I have never been kissed.

"I can't believe I just did that," I confess, standing up and straightening my skirt, my legs feeling weak like a newborn colt trying to walk.

"You can't? Do I need to repeat so soon? You know I'll be happy to." Edward smirks from his position on my couch, his playfulness just teasing me to sit back down and continue until neither of us can breathe. But, I know that we still need to talk, I know so little about Edward, and so much more I want to learn than how well he can kiss.

"Edward," I warn.

"Bella," he parrots.

He stands up, and a flash of panic filters through his eyes and I figure he is about to confess something else, and from his hesitation, I don't think I want to know. After practically throwing myself at him, making out with him on my couch, I resolve to pull myself from further embarrassment and speak first, but as I start, he cuts me off.

"And before you even think it, no I am not married, I don't have a girlfriend, and to be perfectly honest I haven't had time to be in a relationship for the past five years." He pauses, staring at me trying to gauge my reaction to his latest bit of information.

"O-kay?" I say, drawing out the letters.

"I have been working all my life, and I think I applied for this job for the fun, but found something else I needed, I wanted," he pauses, coming to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me back into his arms. "Like I said, I haven't had time for a relationship in recent years, but I need the chance with you, I want you," he pauses again, swallowing before speaking. "Go out with me, no restaurants, um, come over and let me cook for you, tonight. It seems that my original plans for the evening have been changed."

His simple request is endearing and I answer right away, "Absolutely." I give him a quick kiss. "I don't think I could have handled watching you work here tonight anyway."


End file.
